


cupcakes.

by noboritaiga



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cupcakes, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Trans Male Character, trans boy!Oswald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5646793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noboritaiga/pseuds/noboritaiga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>oswald teaches edward how to make cupcakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cupcakes.

“You can do so many things well and this is just not one of them,” Oswald muses, Edward’s head turning slowly to see Oswald examining the pan of cupcakes setting on the stove. No, he truly is not good at them. Ever since the one he had given to Ms. Kringle, he had dedicated himself to learning to do a better job, and yet he still has not managed to do such.

 

Huffing in frustration, he closes the door to the refrigerator and wanders over to the stove, picking up one of the misshapen, underbaked cupcakes and turning it around in his hand. “I’ve made several attempts and none of the last few have been better than the first few. I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

 

It’s late. They should probably be in bed. But instead, Oswald picks the pan up and sets it aside, in the sink, before taking Ed by the wrist and pulling him back, closer to the stove. He has issues with people being close to him, Ed knows this better than most, but over the period of time they’ve come to get to know each other better, Oswald’s issues with proximity have lessened and lessened until Ed can stand next to him, in his personal space, without there being an issue. He is proud of this, this small prize he has collected for staying at Oswald’s side for as long as he has. And, with eyes that widen a touch when Oswald starts rifling through his cabinets, he senses he is about to collect another.

 

“My mother made the best cupcakes,” Oswald informs him, his voice faltering noticeably even though he does his best to remain business as usual, and Ed’s fingers twitch with the desire to touch him, even just brush his shoulders, to make sure he is okay. To reassure him. “Cannoli cupcakes. One way or another, tonight, we’re going to teach you how to make cupcakes properly.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Ed murmurs, but it’s more for the sake of politeness that he does, with no real inflection in his voice to suggest he doesn’t want that.

 

Oswald smiles up at him as he brushes past Ed to retrieve something, and Ed’s chest does that little squeeze thing it has been doing ever since they became… Them. It has been a constant battle to keep himself from splitting, from bolting, because the fear that Oswald will inevitably leave him has been a constant struggle, a fear that haunts his very nightmares, and the urge to run has never been so strong as it is when it crops up lately. Especially in the last… Month or so. Honestly, he isn’t sure  _ how _ long it has been cropping up because time is not a concrete thing to him, and he has some trouble keeping up with it. Another good reason to have Oswald around, because Oswald… He’s helped with that, when he can, when he understands well enough to figure out how he can help.

 

That has not always gone… Well, of course, because sometimes Ed reads that help with a different perception, a more negative one, but Oswald seems to… Maybe not understand  _ why _ but understand enough that he never blames Ed for it, and that has made all the difference in the world.

 

“Did you and your mother bake together often?” Ed asks, turning around mid-question when Oswald retrieves the milk from the refrigerator to keep him in sight.

 

“We did. All the time. We did everything together, honestly, we…” Oswald stops, sets the milk on the counter, and grips the edge of it as he takes a deep breath. “She was the only person who ever made me feel like  _ me, _ like the person I was meant to be when I was born, and not  _ who _ I was born.”

 

Ed catches his lower lip between his teeth and nods, and now this is something he himself does not understand no matter how many conversations he and Oswald have had about it. He might not always like the body he was born in, has scratched himself raw so many times and not even on purpose (Oswald takes his hand when he tries it, now, and just holds it, and sometimes it’s the best feeling in the world), and impulse has caused him to make changes without really knowing why, but it’s not what Oswald does. No, Oswald does everything with a purpose, a concrete goal of shaping and reshaping, changing massive details and minor ones until he fits better the image he sees in his head, the image he wants to project to the world. It’s why beneath the loose-fitting pajama top he has on now, there’s compression fabric to keep his chest bound until he can pursue the surgery he wants to pursue.

 

“Anyway. Cannoli cupcakes. You have the actual cupcake, the cannoli filling, the ganache, and the almond cream.” Oswald pauses, then props a hand on his hip. “You can get the look of horror off of your face any time now.”

 

“I thought we’d start simple,” Ed admits worriedly, because he wants to do a good job at this. He doesn’t want to fail. And he wants Oswald to tell him he did a good job, as ridiculous as that sometimes may sound. He just… Needs that.

 

Oswald smiles, a gentle smile, and lets his head fall to the side. “Would I ever make you do something I don’t think you can do? This isn’t going to be as hard as it sounds, and you’re going to have me, an expert, right beside you the entire time. I promise.”

 

It is, to put it gently, a cute disaster in that Ed demands to do everything as scientifically as possible, including trying to figure out the exact height and mass on the ganache and cream to balance it perfect with the cupcakes and the filling, and he’s sure at any moment Oswald is going to literally bite his head off. He can  _ feel  _ Oswald getting angry, can feel the waves of upset rolling off of his body and it’s almost enough to send Ed into a panicked escape, but he watches, in wonder, as Oswald takes a deep breath and smiles at him. Ed, half-bent over the counter and the cooled cupcakes, feels like a prey about to fall for a trick by the predator. And it’s… Kind of exhilarating, too.

 

Oswald simply drags a finger through the bowl of ganache and, so fast Ed doesn’t see it coming, places a dollop of it on the end of Ed’s nose. “You are adorable in your precision, you know that?”

 

Ed blinks, nearly crosses his eyes to see the ganache, then grins at Oswald (and at the fact that he hasn’t done anything wrong and that his favorite person isn’t angry with him). “But did I make it right?”

 

Oswald plucks the finished cupcake off of the plate and takes a bite of it, and Ed watches his expression with waiting eyes, a startled little laugh jumping out of his mouth when Oswald makes a quiet almost moaning noise and lets his head fall back as he swallows. When it comes back up--Oswald licking his lips all the while--the grin enough is bright enough, and wide enough, and sincere enough that Ed feels some of that anxiety ease. That he can take a breath, and smile, and things feel less bad, and then Oswald leans across the counter and kisses the ganache off of his nose, and that tight feeling in his chest is replaced by something warm and… Safe. Somehow.

 

It’s later on, when the cupcakes are eaten and when they  _ should _ be in bed that Oswald undresses for him for the first time and Ed tastes something sweeter than any dessert he’s ever tasted. And he is forever,  _ forever _ thankful for the way Oswald opens up to him.


End file.
